


melt and swallow

by orphan_account



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Cock Piercing, Comeplay, Creampie, Drunk Sex, Face-Fucking, Face-Sitting, Gangbang, Humiliation, M/M, Orgasm Denial, Overstimulation, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Riding, Rimming, Sloppy Seconds, Verbal Humiliation, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-16
Updated: 2017-06-16
Packaged: 2018-11-14 02:20:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,593
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11198415
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Taeyong just wants to be loved.And maybe fucked and filled, too.





	melt and swallow

**Author's Note:**

> [clutches rosary]
> 
> I'M NOT HERE TO TEACH YOU HOW TO HAVE SEX I'M HERE TO BE A FILTHY GREMLIN
> 
> title taken from a Richard Siken poem. I forgot which one but all Siken poems are the same in the end anyway (except for Scheherazade because I'm biased)
> 
> uhhh idk it got really messy (for me, at least) but I'll be fucking damned if I go over this entire thing again to edit it's literally just porn, Susan
> 
> uhhhhhhhhhh the humiliation is mild…………
> 
> all the love to Emily moonprism for encouraging my filth ily

They really went all out for this one, the king-sized bed, the grand view of Seoul from the bed and from the amazing marble bathtub, the dim lights, the soft sheets that Taeyong just wants to lie down on. His head is swimming and someone’s hands are on his body, rough and calloused and warm, someone is pulling him close for a kiss.

Someone’s tongue is in his ear, biting the lobe. Whispering in his ear, “Happy birthday,” and oh, Taeyong’s forgotten—it’s why they’re all so smashed, a pile of warm bodies clustered together in one of the most expensive hotels in Seoul. The thought makes Taeyong warm and fuzzy and he smiles against the mouth he’s kissing—he thinks it’s Doyoung’s, because there’s a moment where their teeth clash and it must be because Doyoung’s teeth are just _so fucking big_.

“Who goes first?” someone—Jaehyun?—asks.

The tension in the room breaks, giving way to nervous laughter. Someone walks away to go into the living room of the suite, pours himself another drink, then someone goes to follow, and the room becomes slightly cooler. Taeyong’s skin gets goosebumps. His lips are numb, too, but he loves the feeling of being kissed, of someone’s tongue swiping over his bottom lip and making him keen. The warmth and steadiness of someone holding him, arms wrapping around him from the back as he nearly stumbles.

Doyoung pulls away, still caressing Taeyong’s face with his thumbs running over Taeyong’s cheekbones, tracing the curve of his mouth. Taeyong parts his lips, trying to take the the finger in. Doyoung’s mouth falls open, too, at the sight, but he closes it and clears his throat, asking with a soft voice, “Hyung, who do you want?”

Without thinking, Taeyong answers, “Yuta.”

Yuta finds Taeyong’s hand and easily slots his in it, leading Taeyong to the bed where Taeyong finally— _finally—_ gets to lay down, with the soft, thick white sheets, the soft pillow. He lets out a giggle, arms reaching out for Yuta when Yuta kneels over him, knees on either side of Taeyong’s hips.

“Me, huh?” Yuta breathes against Taeyong’s cheek, trailing sloppy kisses from temple to chin. He catches Taeyong’s mouth in his, muffling the groan that comes out of Taeyong when Yuta slides his palms flat under Taeyong’s shirt, circling both nipples with his fingers.

Taeyong lets his shirt get thrown over his head, lifts his hips up so Yuta can undo the buckle of his belt. The feel of the denim is too much, suffocating and rough and in the way of what Taeyong so desperately wants to feel. He sits up and removes his legs from under Yuta, undoing Yuta’s jeans even with his only halfway down his thighs and pulling out his half-hard cock.

So Yuta has a piercing, and Taeyong knows this because Taeyong went with him to that place in Hongdae to get it done. He didn’t hold Yuta’s hand then, but he did hold Yuta’s hand walking to the subway and walking back to their dorm. The piercing glints in the warm light, a small bead peaking out from the head of Yuta’s dick, and Taeyong ducks his head down to give it a tentative lick.

“ _Fuck_ ,” Yuta groans, taking his bottom lip into his mouth to chew on it until it’s as tender and swollen as Taeyong’s mouth feels. Taeyong grazes his teeth against the piercing, feels it warm up against his tongue. He opens his mouth wider to take Yuta in deeper, saliva running down his chin because he’s been waiting for this moment for so long, saliva running down his throat. Yuta fists at Taeyong’s hair, guiding him until the head of his cock reaches the back of Taeyong’s throat and he chokes, mouth full of spit and dick, his eyes watering. “Holy fuck.” His breaths turn into shallow pants as Taeyong continues to pay him no mind, licking up the sides of his cock as if it’s the only thing he knows how to do. “Taeyongie, I swear I’m gonna come _right now_.”

Without a word, Taeyong lies down and shimmies out of his skinny jeans, spreading his legs open with his feet planted firmly on the bed and knees far apart, something inside him aching from being so tightly wound together.

Yuta stares, stares hard and long and licks his lips. Eyes wide and clothes dishevelled. “May I?” Taeyong bites his lip and closes his eyes, throwing his head back when Yuta starts nipping along the inside of his thighs, taking the skin into his mouth and sucking on it until Taeyong gasps. “God, Taeyongie.”

Like kissing, Taeyong thinks he can stay like this forever, with Yuta’s head between his legs, fingers digging into his thighs, Yuta’s tongue tracing circles around his entrance. Taeyong shivers further into the bed and sighs, lets Yuta flick his tongue into his entrance. He wants to grind against Yuta’s mouth, whining because he feels heavy and can’t move, because he wants Yuta on his back and Taeyong above him, grinding down into his mouth.

“What is it?” Yuta asks gently. His breath is warm on Taeyong’s thighs. His mouth is swollen and red and shiny and everything good.

Taeyong wants to kiss him so bad, so he pulls him by the shirt and kisses him. He licks the taste of him from Yuta’s mouth. He wraps his legs around Yuta’s waist and grinds into him, the bare skin in contact with Yuta’s dick making him gasp.

Speaking seems so hard. Taeyong’s mouth doesn’t want to cooperate, feeling slack whenever Yuta’s leaves his. It feels heavy, swollen. But he manages, “I want to…”

“Yeah?

“Sit on your face,” Taeyong whispers, low enough that the others don’t hear.

They’re all sitting on the couches surrounding the bed, like they’re watching a movie back at the dorm. Somehow, Taeyong doesn’t mind.

Yuta laughs at the request, smiling so wide he can barely kiss Taeyong. “Okay.” He lets go of Taeyong and rolls around the bed until he’s lying down, shirt all the way up and pants barely pulled down to reveal his hard-on, red and lying on his stomach. Taeyong crawls over him and pushes the shirt over Yuta’s head, throwing it somewhere (it must have fallen near Youngho, because he can hear him complain).

Ten, who’s nearest the bed, gets on it to hold Taeyong steady, guiding him until Taeyong is right where he wants to be: down on Yuta’s mouth, hands clutching the headboard. Yuta’s arms curl around his thighs to pull him closer.

“I want to go next,” Ten declares.

“We barely started,” Yuta argues. He snakes a finger around Taeyong’s ass, slick with spit, and lets out a “ _God_ ” when Taeyong keens.

“Hyung,” Ten says, moving closer to Taeyong, “can I?” He licks his lips, his tongue small and pink and so pretty, and Taeyong wordlessly guides him by the hair to his dick. 

Taeyong’s toes curl as Ten tongues at the slit, drawing it out before taking him in deeper. Ten strokes whatever he can’t reach with his mouth from that angle, letting himself drool and go sloppy on Taeyong’s cock so the slide of his mouth is smooth and slick and so utterly wet.

Yuta has two fingers in him now in addition to his tongue, which was warm and wet and sent jolts up Taeyong’s spine whenever he moved. Ten pulls away to wipe at his mouth, his entire face smiling from behind his sleeve.

Now all Taeyong wants to do is be fucked, fucked hard until he can’t feel his thighs, until his ass feels raw and his mouth is aching. Yuta slips his fingers out of him like he knows and lubes up his dick, courtesy of Doyoung. He guides Taeyong until Taeyong is right above his dick then says, “I’m going to fuck you now.”

“Please,” Taeyong gasps. 

“Your piercing,” Jaehyun brings up.

Yuta freezes. “Shit.”

“It’s fine,” Taeyong says without thinking about it, just aching for something inside him already.

Like a gentleman, Yuta goes slow, hands firmly on Taeyong’s hips as he sinks Taeyong down on his dick. Taeyong has his hands splayed on Yuta’s chest.

Once Yuta’s all the way in, he asks Taeyong if he’s okay. Taeyong, honestly, can really feel the piercing and thinks it’s scratching up his insides, but he likes it. He lets Yuta know he’s okay by moving his hips, grinding into Yuta. Yuta grips him hard and tries to meet him halfway, going faster until neither of them can barely talk and it’s just the sound of their heavy breathing, the slap of their skin every time they meet.

Taeyong bends down to kiss him. Yuta supports him by trailing a hand up his back, feeling the bumps of his spine. It’s barely a kiss, what they have—it’s a clash of open, wet mouths, and it’s hot and suffocating, but Taeyong draws him closer, fingers twisting in Yuta’s hair.

“I’m gonna come,” Yuta gasps.

“In me,” Taeyong says right in Yuta’s ear, and Yuta groans. He picks up the pace, nails digging into Taeyong’s skin. There’s the chafe of Yuta’s jeans against his ass. Everything’s rough on Taeyong, but he arches into all of the touch.

“Fuck, you’re so pretty,” Yuta coos. He comes inside of Taeyong a few moments after, hips stuttering and mouth slack, face red. Taeyong can feel the warmth in him, dripping down the sides of his thighs.

They stay like that for a while until Yuta flips them over and kisses Taeyong as he slips out, making Taeyong shiver at the contact between Yuta’s piercing and his perineum, the sensitive skin.

“You’re so beautiful,” Yuta can’t seem to stop saying. “So fucking pretty.”

Taeyong hasn’t come yet, but every inch of him is screaming and thrumming and aching, so when Yuta kisses him, tender and lazy and sweet, he thinks he could die. They would probably stay there forever if not for someone—Ten, that spoiled ass brat—clearing his throat.

“My turn,” Ten says in singsong. He all but pushes Yuta off the bed. Yuta just rolls off gracefully and with a gracious laugh, tucking his softened dick back into his boxers and kicking off his pants.

“I need a nap,” Yuta says with a yawn. He finds Doyoung and curls up next to him, and Doyoung wraps an arm around him without taking an eye off Taeyong.

“Are you sure?” Doyoung asks Ten. Ten grins up at Taeyong as he tosses his shirt over his head and gets out of his shorts.

“Yeah. I’ve been waiting for this.”

And Ten—Ten is gorgeous and lithe, looking perfect in hotel lighting. Taeyong wants to fuck his mouth raw but he wants to feel Ten between his legs, too. Anything.

Fortunately, he doesn’t get to decide. Ten crawls on top of Taeyong and sits on his stomach, fingers drumming on Taeyong’s collarbones. “Can I fuck your face, hyung? Pretty please?”

God. This can’t be real. Taeyong just opens his mouth in response, and Ten smiles.

“I’ll be gentle, hyung,” Ten promises, again with that singsong tone. He moves forward, hand on his cock, and settles for sitting right on Taeyong’s chest with his feet on either side of Taeyong’s ears. “Let me know if it’s uncomfortable for you, okay?”

The head of Ten’s cock sits perfectly on the curve of Taeyong’s bottom lip. Taeyong meets Ten’s eyes as he curves his mouth into a pout and places a kiss on the tip, opening his mouth to swirl his tongue all over it. He smiles when Ten strokes through his hair then opens his mouth eagerly for Ten to slide in.

Drool builds up in the sides of Taeyong’s mouth. He swallows it down as best he could but chokes on Ten’s dick anyway when it brushes against the back of his mouth, saliva spluttering out, down his cheek and throat. 

Ten pulls back, just a little bit. He pushes back in then pulls the entire way out, cock tapping on the side of Taeyong’s cheek and leaving a wet trail there.

He’s breathing pretty heavily, too. His eyes had gone glassy and his mouth slick and parted. “Hyung,” Ten says, “I want to fuck you.”

Taeyong wants all of it, all of _them_. He wants to lie down on the bed, spread-eagled and let them fill him up until he’s bursting. He runs his hands up Ten’s thighs, feels him twitch on top of him, and links their fingers together.

“Yeah,” Taeyong breathes.

Ten _squeals_ in excitement, slinging his leg out and planting a kiss on Taeyong’s mouth. “Love you, hyung, seriously. Do you want me to suck you off after?”

He’s so cute, Ten is. Taeyong just laughs and spreads his legs farther for him, pulling Ten up by the hair to kiss him as Ten aligns himself with Taeyong’s entrance.

“God, you’re so wet,” Ten remarks. He’s so chatty, reeking of soju and smiling too wide. His smile turns into a groan when he’s in Taeyong fully, rolling his hips into him. “This is great.”

The thing is, Taeyong feels like he’s floating. He feels numb all over except where Ten’s mouth is on his, his bottom lip caught between Ten’s teeth. But he feels raw, too, and he has to muffle his groan when Ten reaches down to jack him off, nice and slow with his thumb spreading the precome around the head.

He doesn’t feel grounded in his body right now, but everything he feels feels _great_ —he wants Ten to nibble on his bottom lip forever, he wants those hands cupping his face, jacking him off. He can come right now, but he knows if he comes, it’s all over. Ten knows it, too, so he’s drawing it out of him, all the whines and moans.

“Harder,” Taeyong says in a hoarse voice, just low enough for Ten to hear. It’s enough to make Ten let go of everything and just fist at Taeyong’s hair, fucking into him like something’s about to come undone.

It’s Ten who comes undone, definitely. Taeyong’s a close second. Ten just sounds extremely satisfied sighing into Taeyong’s ear; he’s kissing Taeyong where he can reach as he stops grinding into Taeyong, kissing him until Ten himself stops shaking, until Taeyong is writhing again and wants Ten to move, but all Ten can do is pull out with a shy laugh.

“Happy birthday, hyung,” Ten coos. A quick peck on Taeyong’s lips, then he goes to put on his shirt and boxers, curling up between Youngho and Jaehyun. He looks small again, knees drawn into his chest, and something in Taeyong’s heart squeezes.

God.

No one comes right after Ten. Taeyong finds himself in the in-between of sleep and eagerness, limbs splayed everywhere. He wants to come, and he’s so hard he thinks his dick might have fallen asleep waiting for someone to touch it, but Youngho comes to him, all smiles.

“Hey,” Youngho says softly. He’s not drunk because he barely drinks, and he’s kneeling on the floor by Taeyong’s side of the bed, fingers trailing down his cheek. “You okay?”

“More than,” Taeyong drawls. God, he’s still so drunk. His head won’t stop swimming, but things are getting clearer, lighter. “Come here, Youngho-ya.”

Youngho laughs and does as Taeyong asked, climbing on top of the bed on the other side of Taeyong. Taeyong, then, leans to his side and tries to fiddle with Youngho’s belt using clumsy fingers. “Hey, hey, no rush.”

“Says you,” Taeyong whines. All Youngho does is laugh… laugh and kiss Taeyong and just _tease_ at taking off his shirt. Taeyong slips his hands under it to tickle at Youngho’s sides, laughing when Youngho fights him off.

“Okay, okay,” Youngho grumbles, still laughing. He undoes his belt and peels off his pants, tossing them to the floor. Then his shirt. Taeyong just watches him all the while, chewing on his bottom lip.

Youngho looks like he could absolutely tear Taeyong apart, and, strangely, Taeyong wants it so bad.

He stops once he gets between Taeyong’s legs, face growing red. “Wow, you should see this,” Youngho says slowly. With a finger, he traces up Taeyong’s perineum, making him keen. He doesn’t stop till he gets to the head of Taeyong’s cock and grazes a fingernail on the slit.

Taeyong hisses, watching Youngho spread the precome down the shaft with the palm of his hand, eventually wrapping his fingers around it. Youngho follows with his mouth, and Taeyong can see stars, if stars could twinkle to the sound of Youngho sucking on his dick.

He’s so focused and relaxed, taking it slowly. He smiles when he catches Taeyong’s eye. Taeyong feels like he’s cruising, orgasm not entirely building up in his gut, but he just feels so, so good.

Next thing he knows, Youngho is pulling away and slicking himself up even though Taeyong knows very well that it’s all superfluous by then.

“I’ll go slow, Taeyongie,” Youngho assures him as he pushes inside, his eyes growing wider. “Oh my god.”

“ _Fuck_ ,” Taeyong groans. He wraps his legs around Youngho’s waist and digs in his heels, trying to make Youngho go deeper. In that position, he can only move hard and fast, and Taeyong clings to him even harder, singing his arms around Youngho’s shoulders.

“God, Taeyongie, do you know what this feels like?” Youngho is blushing really hard—his face feels hot when Taeyong cups it, the warmth searing through his palms. “Wow. God. Look at you.”

Taeyong doesn’t say anything; he just pulls Youngho back down to kiss him, tongue exploring the roof of Youngho’s mouth. His legs get untangled from Youngho’s waist and lifted above him so that the backs of the knees fall square on Youngho’s shoulders. Like that, with a firm grip on Taeyong’s thighs, Youngho fucks him in erratic strokes, trying to chase his own orgasm now that he can feel it.

Youngho does try to kiss Taeyong once or twice, because the hand Taeyong has curled on the back of his neck demands it, because he knows Taeyong likes it, but he falls short every time, mouth too open and slack to do much of anything. Taeyong’s slack, too—in that position, Youngho’s stomach is lightly causing friction on his dick, and he just _whines_ into the corners of Youngho’s mouth.

When Youngho comes, he snakes a hand down to Taeyong’s cock and jacks him off, making him come, too. Taeyong could literally feel his entire body trembling and jerking forward, pinned down only by the weight of Youngho on top of him. Youngho kisses him, tender fingers brushing Taeyong’s hair back.

He coos in Taeyong’s ear. Taeyong barely understands, but he smiles and clutches onto Youngho with weak fingers, not wanting to let go.

Youngho laughs again, this time soft and breathy. And even after he pulls out from Taeyong, he decides to stay, lying down next to Taeyong.

Jaehyun’s next, and Taeyong, no matter how drunk he is, can feel the hesitation coming off of him in droves.

“Don’t force yourself,” Youngho thankfully ends up saying, because Taeyong is greedy and just wants Jaehyun.

“I _want_ to,” Jaehyun whispers, a high flush on his cheeks, “but I’m not sure if I _should_? Do you get that, hyung?” He doesn’t take his eyes off Youngho, as if Youngho can tell him all he needs to know, what he should do. But he plays with Taeyong’s hair, rubbing at the scalp with his fingers. If Taeyong could purr, he would. That’s just how it is.

“Do you want me, hyung?” Jaehyun goes on to ask. Not that Jaehyun even needs to ask, because every time he touches Taeyong, it feels like an unspoken question that he doesn’t know the answer to even if Taeyong so blatantly displays the answer with his body language. That kind of shit. And Taeyong wants all of them, so he doesn’t see why Jaehyun finds it so hard to indulge him. It’s _his_ birthday after all. Of _course_ he wants Jaehyun.

“Yes.”

And somehow, that’s all that Jaehyun needed. Now he’s kissing Taeyong, hand on the back of Taeyong’s neck and caressing at the skin with his thumb. Taeyong loves the slight shyness and the methodical, almost clinical, perfection that follows once Jaehyun finds his rhythm.

Well, Jaehyun’s always been that. Methodical, almost clinical. He takes off his clothes with precision, managing to not have to leave Taeyong for more than a second. No teeth, barely any saliva. He’s warm between Taeyong’s legs as he mouths his way down Taeyong’s body.

Taeyong gasps when Jaehyun sucks on the skin of his collarbone, toes curling and skin buzzing. Jaehyun then laps it up with his tongue, his thumbs tracing circles on Taeyong’s hipbones. He’s gentle and slow, and Taeyong can feel the tremor in his fingers, the hot, shaky breath as it goes past his abdomen and lingers on the jut of his hip before going back up to lap up the come on his stomach.

“You made a mess, hyung,” Jaehyun teases. He licks a patch of come near Taeyong’s bellybutton and comes away with a string of come trailing out of his tongue and sticking to his bottom lip. Taeyong reaches out a forefinger to swipe it off then licks it himself.

Jaehyun watches him, his eyes going glassy, before he lays his mouth just a little close to Taeyong’s dick, close enough that Taeyong knows it’s there. So Taeyong shivers, because the wisp of air sends him shivering. And when Jaehyun touches him with a light hand, fingers loosely wrapping themselves around the shaft, Taeyong lets out a whine that’s been stuck at the back of his throat, hitching because he’s just that sensitive. Fuck. He can’t imagine what it would be like to come again; he might _faint_.

Their eyes meet just as Jaehyun is starting to trail kisses up the shaft, his mouth so pretty and pink. Holy fucking shit. He’s definitely going to come again, and he wants Jaehyun _right there_ , lapping up come from the head of his dick, each flick of his tongue making Taeyong shake.

Once Taeyong’s hard again, Jaehyun pulls off with a pop, sucking in breath between his teeth. His mouth is shiny with saliva and come, staining the corners of his mouth and his cheeks. Taeyong can’t bear it anymore, so he crooks his fingers for Jaehyun to come up and kiss him.

Jaehyun enters him without missing a beat, slipping in without much trouble.

“Shit,” Jaehyun curses against Taeyong’s mouth. “Fuck. Shit. Fuck.” When he moves, it sounds wet and sticky and filthy. Taeyong can only imagine what that part of his body looks like. “Hyung,” Jaehyun whines.

For a hot second, Taeyong panics, thinking Jaehyun would be too disgusted to continue, but Jaehyun just goes faster until the sound gets more and more filthy, lewd, and obscene. Taeyong clings onto him and presses kisses wherever his mouth can reach, tasting the sweat on Jaehyun’s temple and the crook of his neck. Some of the sweat drips down, pooling into the crevices of Taeyong’s body.

At some point, Jaehyun’s worked Taeyong’s hands off him, keeping both of Taeyong’s tiny wrists together and pinning them above Taeyong’s head with one hand so he could grind in deeper, faster.

It doesn’t take long for Jaehyun to come, and the sound he makes in Taeyong’s ear is long, loud, and broken. He hisses and lets out a long groan, grinding into Taeyong until he stops spilling inside of him. And when he does stop, he doesn’t linger; he picks himself up and rolls off of Taeyong, apologising for the mess.

“Thanks though,” Taeyong drawls, smiling and feeling something like fierce pride when Jaehyun flushes red.

“Of course, hyung.”

Whatever smile Taeyong has on his face leaves when Doyoung moves closer to the bed, unbuckling his belt. “Oh, it’s you.”

“You sound disappointed,” Doyoung says lightly.

“I was doing fine.”

“I’ll take care of you.” Doyoung stops at undoing the button of his jeans and lies down on the bed next to Taeyong but not without kicking Youngho out. Youngho and Jaehyun duck into the bathroom, and Yuta and Ten are in the living room of the suite, sharing a drink.

So it’s just Doyoung and Taeyong alone. Taeyong feels warm.

“Having fun?”

Taeyong bursts out laughing. “What do you think?”

“I’m surprised you’re still talking.”

“I can say the same about you.”

Doyoung doesn’t say anything but purses his lips. He extends his hand and lands it on Taeyong’s thigh, lowering it until it’s teasing at Taeyong’s entrance. Taeyong gasps when Doyoung presses against him, gathering come on the tips of his fingers.

“Wow,” Doyoung breathes when he pulls his hand back to examine it.

“Your turn,” Taeyong insists. And if Doyoung didn’t get the message, Taeyong holds him by the wrist and brings the hand to his mouth, sucking on each finger until Doyoung gets it. He kisses Doyoung’s palm and lets Doyoung’s fingers fuck the inside of his mouth until they’re glistening with spit.

“You’re too good at this, you know that?” Doyoung says. Taeyong just grins, and Doyoung leans in, eager to wipe that grin off his face with a kiss. He licks into Taeyong’s mouth and pushes him down with both hands until he’s straddling Taeyong, the material of his worn-out jeans soft yet generally overstimulating against Taeyong’s skin.

Taeyong swallows. “Shirt,” he manages to say.

“Hmm”—Doyoung pretends to think about it—“how about I stay like this, hyung?”

“I’ll cry.”

At that, Doyoung grins. “Perfect.”

“You’re evil.” Unfortunately, whatever was meant to come out of Taeyong’s mouth after that gets lost when Doyoung runs his thumbs over Taeyong’s nipples so that Taeyong can only repeat: “Evil.” He reaches for Doyoung’s shirt to try and coax it off of him, but Doyoung swats his hands away and pins them above his head so he can bend down and ghost his mouth over Taeyong’s.

“Be good for me, okay?” Doyoung says.

That’s ridiculous. When has Taeyong ever been not good? He lets out a huff and rolls his eyes, and Doyoung only lets his voice go stern.

“I mean it, hyung.”

“Okay,” Taeyong says, voice low. “I’ll be good.” Doyoung rewards him with a kiss, kissing him long enough that Taeyong’s arms begin to ache and he whimpers into Doyoung’s mouth.

Doyoung lets him go and gets off of him, moving to settle between his legs. He lifts one of Taeyong’s legs to make it rest on his hip, grazes a fingernail along the inside of Taeyong’s thigh, and laughs whenever Taeyong twitches or jerks back, at the noise Taeyong makes when Doyoung replaces his fingers with his mouth.

“God,” Taeyong chokes out.

“Like that,” Doyoung murmurs as he gets closer to Taeyong’s entrance, the pad of one finger already pressing against it. He flicks out his tongue and laps up some of the come.

It shocks Taeyong, making him jump and shiver on the bed. And even if a part of him (buried deep, most likely) thinks it’s absolutely disgusting, the rest of him just finds it… hot. “Do that again,” Taeyong breathes.

Doyoung licks his lips. He loops his arms around Taeyong’s thighs and pulls him closer, hooking the backs of Taeyong’s knees on his shoulders. “You like this,” Doyoung states, murmuring it against Taeyong’s inner thigh before he parts his lips further to—not necessarily trail kisses there but to graze along the skin, breath hot and heavy and slightly damp.

Taeyong blushes harder, the heat searing on his cheeks, but he really can’t say anything, because he does. He does like it. A lot. It makes something curl up tight in his stomach.

“You’re disgusting,” Doyoung says, even as he’s mouthing at Taeyong’s perineum. It makes Taeyong clench the sheets until his knuckles turn white. “Does it make you feel good, Taeyongie?”

“Manners,” Taeyong chides even though his voice is shaking, breaking into a moan when Doyoung licks lazily into his entrance.

“Do you like being like this, _hyung_?” Doyoung continues. Before long, he has a finger to go with his tongue, slipping in easily. He opens his eyes and meets Taeyong’s. “What do you want me to do?”

Language escapes Taeyong. When he opens his mouth, nothing comes out.

Doyoung moves his head up, ghosting over Taeyong’s balls. “Do you want me to suck you off?” Taeyong shakes his head; he might come if he comes in contact with something warm and wet. “Do you want me to fuck you?” 

“Kiss,” Taeyong manages to say. “Kiss me.”

“Sure, hyung.” So Doyoung does, and Taeyong can taste the salt on his lips, the bitterness, can feel Doyoung’s dick nudging his thigh, aching to fuck him already. Doyoung, at least, hasn’t been one to rush. He kisses Taeyong until Taeyong becomes pliant under him, easily movable to a position where he’s on his knees. Taeyong buries his face into the pillow and juts his ass up in the air, waits.

Something in Doyoung comes out all choked up, a strangled noise as he lowers his jeans to his knees and nudges the tip of his dick inside Taeyong’s entrance, pushing in slowly. The sound is intense, intensely wet and filthy, and it makes Taeyong feel gross but also incredibly turned on, making him hide his face further into the pillow. Doyoung’s fingers are running down Taeyong’s spine to feel the bumps and ridges then come to rest on his hips, digging into the skin with blunt nails.

He bends forward, pressing kisses along Taeyong’s nape. “Do you feel that?” Doyoung says, voice soft but clear. “That’s how greedy you are.”

Taeyong whimpers, grinding his ass against Doyoung to get the fucker to move already instead of making him feel like this, embarrassed and hot and aching.

“What’s going to happen if I move?”

Oh, Taeyong knows, but it’s too embarrassing to say. He lets out a whine, muffled by the pillow, and draws it out when Doyoung starts to move. And true enough, come is starting to run down his thigh. Doyoung catches it with his rough fingers.

“Taeyongie,” Doyoung calls.

Taeyong lifts his head up and to the side, staring at the come Doyoung’s presented him. He licks his lips then darts out his tongue, using one hand to hold Doyoung’s wrist to keep it steady as he lays the flat of his tongue on Doyoung’s palm and slowly licks upward. Lick, swallow, lick, swallow until Doyoung’s palm is clean and Taeyong’s throat feels sticky. 

“God, look at you.” Doyoung withdraws his hand to place back on Taeyong’s hips. He fucks him harder, their bodies slapping together. “You’re so greedy,” he then says, breathless. He fucks him faster, rhythm coming undone until it finally breaks, falls apart, and slows to a stutter as he rides out his orgasm. 

A few moments after, Doyoung pulls out and flips them over again, laughing when he sees how Taeyong’s face is split into a grin. “You like that?” Taeyong nods, feeling so _full_ and blissed out that he doesn’t even mind that he’s still hard, cock straining for release.

Doyoung hums and leans over for a kiss, nibbling on Taeyong’s bottom lip before he makes his way down to Taeyong’s dick. He doesn’t pretend to go slow, doesn’t tease; he goes fast, teeth grazing along the shaft.

Taeyong shouts when he comes, doubling over to fist at Doyoung’s hair. “ _Fuck_ ,” he groans out with gritted teeth. “Fuck fuck fuck _fuck_ —” Tears prick at the corner of his eyes as Doyoung continues to suck on the head, tongue lapping up the last vestiges of come, however little that came out of him this time.

When Doyoung's done, he sits back and rocks on his heels. “Wow, look at you.”

Taeyong can’t do anything but stare at Doyoung, his dishevelled mouth and hair, the rumpled clothes. He wants to get those clothes off and lie with him, but he finds his mouth too heavy to even open up. Fortunately, Doyoung seems to be getting the hint as he takes off his shirt, face entirely red. Then his jeans. He looks afraid to touch Taeyong, maybe because he can tell that Taeyong’s skin is buzzing.

Instead, Taeyong pulls him in by the hair, kisses him, moves back until he’s back to lying down with Doyoung’s warmth all over his, comforting instead of suffocating.

“Done?” he hears Youngho say. “I heard someone shout.”

Doyoung laughs. “Yeah.”

“I’ll get you guys towels.”

When Youngho comes back, he has two towels in hand, dampened with hot water from the sink. Doyoung takes his appreciatively and wipes himself off while Youngho goes over Taeyong with a careful hand. The others come back, too—Yuta fully naked, Ten in pyjamas, Jaehyun in a bathrobe, and they all climb on the bed, crowding Taeyong, who can’t feel his face because he’s been smiling for so long.

“Happy birthday, hyung,” Ten says in singsong, cupping Taeyong’s face to pepper kisses on his cheek. He curls up next to him, displacing Youngho and Doyoung, and keeps a hand splayed on his chest.

“Did you like our gift?” Yuta asks, sidling up to Taeyong’s other side.

Taeyong lets out a laugh and sinks his head into the pillow, his laugh turning into a yawn as he succumbs to sleep.

**Author's Note:**

> slightly obvious that my otp is dotae (or is it?) eh. also, Doyoung is gross and nasty
> 
> if you like garbage, I have a [twitter](https://twitter.com/satanyong)


End file.
